


Sole Survivor

by FenixPhoenix



Series: The Shepard Files [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3673572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenixPhoenix/pseuds/FenixPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo Shepard's curse continues to make her life miserable. Twice she's found a way to slip from claws of death. Akuz, however, plagues her every waking thought. Now, as she reaches the final stages of debriefing in order to put all this officially behind her, she's pulled back to the place where it all began. Confined in the same interrogation room where she talked about the massacre of her colony a lifetime ago, Jo must open up again the gates of hell and hope the ghosts don't shatter her remaining sanity. But will she be able to pretend she's not affected, even as the ghost of her brother looks on in disapproval? Will the recollection and the guilt that rises, break her... or will David Anderson --her superior and her friend-- pull the trigger this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sole Survivor

** **

**[ F I L E   T W O ]**

Psychological Interview: Sole Survivor

Patient: Jo Shepard

* * *

 

 **Shepard** closes her eyes when she sees a road sign indicating their destination draws near. She finds the hum of the car preferable to the bombardment of bad propaganda, much of it promoting the System Alliance.

"Everything okay, Commander?" the man driving asks, missing nothing.

Shepard glances at him, noticing his tilted brow. Despite how callous he sounds, Shepard knows he truly cares. This man has been paramount in advancing her career, after all. Which makes it ironic that he's with her now, driving her back to the place where it all began. More so, because it was him who'd drove her out of there almost thirteen years past. Was this going to be one of those vicious circles that would repeat endlessly? Was she destined to come back here again and again, to revisit the tragedies of her life and try to hide the pieces of her broken mind?

"Shepard," he calls again, probably worried by her silence. She prefers it when he calls her by name rather than title. Shepard. That's her name now. Jo died in her colony, another victim of the batarian slavers' raid. The only one left was Shepard, the last legacy of a dead family.

"Commander Shepard," Captain David Anderson steers the car onto the side of the road and stops. "Can you even hear me?"

Shepard smirks, dismissing his concern with a shrug. "Commander, huh?" she echoes. He doesn't seem completely satisfied, but at least he hits the accelerator and continues down the road.

"What's on your mind, Shepard?"

She props her elbow on the door of the car and leans on her arm, resting her chin on her fist, pressing part of her forehead onto the cool glass. It helps combat the warmth that has wormed its way inside her system, making her sweat underneath her uniform.

"I think I haven't gotten used to it yet, sir" she excuses. Noticing his confusion, she specifies, "The title, I mean." It's a half-truth. It's not that she hasn't gotten used to it, Shepard just feels undeserving of it, especially since she'd failed in her duties to lead her men and bring them home.

Anderson smiles sympathetically, oblivious to her real feelings, "You will, just give it time."

"Speaking from experience, sir?" Shepard returns with a dry smile.

"You know it," Anderson chuckles, failing to see the cynicism swimming in her eyes. "In the meantime, I'll just keep calling you Shepard. That alright?"

It's the first time since the attack that Shepard feels a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "Sounds good to me, sir."

Anderson glances at her and worry seems to make its way back into his brow. "Listen, I know everything feels overwhelming right now, Shepard. That's why we're doing this. We want to make sure you're okay."

She nods but says nothing. What is there to say, really? She understands where he's coming from, but nothing is that simple. Worry might be part of the reason why she's being brought back to the Alliance home base on earth, but it's not the only reason --hell, it might not even be the biggest one!

Politics. Everything always revolves around them and the military has its own very special kind. Naturally, with every political party comes a crew to develop some shitty-ass propaganda. Shepard is smart enough to figure out that some higher-up wants her ready to be shown around, paraded like an exotic specimen, the best humanity has to offer or some such shit. She's also mature enough to accept it and ride it out. That doesn't mean, however, that she has to like it or --as they're about to find out-- become a willing participant.

She turns away just in time to see another recruitment advert appear on the side of the road. It's a big digital billboard of a man dressed in formal blues, saluting with the Alliance flag in the background. His eyes are looking up and beyond, alight with dreams of glory and fucking rainbows.

Shepard snorts quietly at the misrepresentation of the job. A military career with the Alliance goes beyond pride and comradeship. In order to earn those things, in order to forge those bonds, one must go through hell and back. Gunshots, scars, fights... death, that's what should be shown in the poster as well. There can be no rainbows without rain, and with the Alliance it's more often than not chunks of ice hailing down at your unprotected head.

"Tomorrow afternoon we have a meeting with General Hackett," Anderson informs.

"So, I'll be wasting my vacation on politics. That's just great. I can't wait, sir."

"You're actually using your sick days for this," Anderson corrects lightheartedly. "Fine, Shepard. I'll tell you what, after this meeting, I'll take you to a bar I like."

"What about what I like, sir?"

"What you like are drinks and those are on me tonight."

Shepard chuckles, "Why, you do know how to conquer a soldier's heart, sir."

"Yes, well, enough with the 'sir' thing, Shepard. When it's just us, you lose it. You make me feel old and unappreciated, like those higher-ups you seem to dislike so much."

"You aren't like them, Anderson," Shepard argues, trying it out. It's easy to speak his name, feels almost natural. Perhaps because of how close they've become since she became his XO.

"Give them a chance, Shepard. Some of them might surprise you, like Hackett." He looks at her through the corner of his eyes, seizing her up, "Actually, I'm certain you'll like him."

"Maybe," Shepard shrugs, "You'll still be number one in my heart."

He chuckles and they fall back into companionable silence. Looking out the window, Shepard wonders what this General wants. Is he the spokesman for his group? Would he be the one asking her to pose for the media? What would he think if he knew her true feelings? That she didn't join the System Alliance out of love, but out of hate. That she does not strive to make the world a better place, but to wipe out slavers --batarian scum first and foremost. That rather than fight to protect, she fights for revenge. Would he still want her to become the poster girl for their campaign? Or would he ask her to smile and pretend that she's not broken? What would he do if he met her silent passenger?

On cue, Jarek Shepard materializes out of thin air. He's sitting in the back, looking at her through the rearview mirror. He's never spoken, yet his eyes convey more than his words ever could. He's concerned but not nervous. She envies how aloof he always seems, how untouched by time he's remained. Where once he'd been older, Jarek looks young, much younger than her. Maybe it's the scars that make her look as though she's lived a thousand lives already?

Shepard trails the mark that runs from her lower lip down to her chin. It's bumpy, lighter in color, hard to miss. Doctor Chakwas had offered to remove it at some point, but Shepard had declined. This is all that's left of the day a thresher maw tore her unit to pieces. The fierce attack had lasted an eternity and, from the fifty she'd led into the planet, only Shepard made it out. Nobody but her knew exactly what happened, how ruthless it had been. Nobody could picture it, even if she were to describe it. It's the emotions what makes up the memory. But this scar... this scar gives silent testimony of that tragedy. This scar could not lie, even if she did.

In a more intimate level, Shepard has grown attached to it. It's still an unmerciful reminder of how many men she's lost, of how powerless she felt... but it's also proof that she made it, a survivor's medal of sorts. It's also a mirror showing a taste of what's inside --those emotional and psychological wounds that get reopened every night, with every nightmare that wakes her up with a scream lodged in her throat.

 

"Are you really alright, Shepard?" Anderson's looking at her again and Shepard realizes with surprise that they've arrived. How in hell did she missed the check-in at the gate?

She unlocks her seatbelt once Anderson parks and surrenders a half-truth, "I was just thinking about the last time I was here."

She gets out of the car. Jarek is nowhere to be seen. He'll be back, of course, he never leaves for long. What people had often referred to as her 'big-motherfucking-guardian-angel', Shepard knows by the name of Jarek. His latest _warning_ was the only thing that saved her life. Luck had nothing to do with it. Neither had skill.

"This is where we met, isn't it?" Anderson says, falling into step beside her. "You were, what? Fifteen?"

"Sixteen," Shepard corrects, feeling guarded. The last time she was here, she had been a victim and had been treated as such. Was history going to repeat itself? Or would her title save her the trouble of being patronized?

"Right," Anderson nods, stopping before the ominous double doors of the main building. The guards outside say nothing. They're trying not to look at them, but Shepard can see they're finding it hard. The temptation is making them sweat.

How could they not? They make for a interesting pair, Anderson and her. More him than her, of course. After all, this is Captain David Anderson, war hero, the Alliance's most decorated special forces operative and first to graduate from the N7 program. Shepard, on the other hand, is a common soldier who's best skill is having Jarek pull her out of trouble, her best weapon unleashing biotics with unstable L5n implants. Beside Anderson, Shepard feels inadequate. Yet, reality is a matter of perspective and while she thinks herself nothing special, how she's viewed is quite different.

For most people Shepard's a survivor, a symbol of humanity's strength and endurance. She's a dramatic success story of someone stepping out of the ashes of her past, renewed and unconquerable. She smirks at the lie. Man, how skewed a reality the media has painted! What they believe is nothing more than a damn fairy tale! Shepard has stepped out of the fire, true, but she's not untouched. There's plenty of scars burning inside and the real picture ain't pretty. Shepard has yet to find her rainbow, all she's gotten so far is a ceiling of ominous clouds and harsh fucking rain.

"Listen, Shepard," Anderson places a hand on each of her shoulders. She feels fifteen again, wishing for the comfort of this giant. "Say the word and I'll pull the plug on this."

It's a tempting offer, but Shepard knows what it's like to run. Eventually she'll get tired. Rather than wait for that to happen, she believes it's best to step into the storm and, hopefully, reach the calm of its eye.

"Pardon my language but that'll get you into a whole shitload of trouble, sir."

"You're worth it, Shepard," Anderson admits, straight to the point.

Coming from him, that's a bigger compliment than anything that's being said about her on the news. Shepard blinks away the sudden moisture in her eyes. She cannot ignore how big a role this man has played in her life. David Anderson has been more than a mentor and a silent benefactor. It had been his recommendation what had gotten her into the N7 program, and it had been his faith in her what had kept her going. That and her promise to her family. In the innermost recesses of her psyche, the thirst for vengeance has never been quenched, but that is something she would never speak of, not even to this man. That's a secret between her and her passenger, one that she would probably take to her grave.

"Thank you, sir." Shepard says, shrugging her emotions away, leaving on their wake steadfast cynicism. "The way we're talking, you'd think I'm walking into war with nothing but a pickaxe."

She realizes what she's said belatedly. Anderson must have read the report on what happened to her colony, because he's looking even more concerned than before.

"Anyways," Shepard continues, unfazed, trying to make up for the slip. "I think we both know I've faced much worst." If she's already introduced the subject of her past, she might as well play it. It's her defensive mechanism to joke in the face of tragedy, and she does that with an expertise develop over the years. "You should've seen me back when my colony was attacked. Now that was a battle right there. I was armed with nothing but a bladder full of piss. Fortunately for the slavers, the Alliance came just in time to keep me from pissing a batarian to his death."

She can tell Anderson's not amused. He's now looking at her as though she's lost a marble.

"Come on, Captain, I'm okay," Shepard assures, moving away before he can peer into her eyes too closely and see the hint of insanity there. That voice never left her either. In her moments of vulnerability, it keeps tempting Shepard to jump off her little ledge and join it.

 

When they finally step into the main building, Shepard finds two familiar guards waiting for her. Despite the changes brought about by age, she recognizes them instantly. These are the same two who would escort her around the base when she had been here last. They notice her, square themselves and salute. She returns the salute, inwardly grateful that her fears are proven baseless. She's not being treated as a victim... _yet_.

When Anderson steps in, the two men straighten even more, puffing out their chest, acknowledging his rank. Anderson returns the salute.

"At ease, gentlemen," he says. He approaches Liam, the one who found her in the aftermath of her colony's attack, and shakes hands with him. They greet each other like old friends. Liam is grinning so widely, that every line in his face gets accentuated.

When Anderson shakes hands with Bryson, the man positively glows. Shepard doesn't think he's as close to the Captain as his comrade, maybe because he never got the opportunity to serve with him.

"Commander," Liam's attention switches to her. His brown hair is almost all white now. She wonders if he detects as many changes in her as she does in him.

When he puts out his hand, Shepard shakes it, "It's been long."

"I wish our reunion was under better circumstances," Liam admits.

"That would be unrealistic," Shepard shrugs, "death has a thing for me, haven't you heard? I would call it an infatuation, but that might leave me stranded on a vorcha island next."

The three men exchange a concerned look.

"You guys need to relax," Shepard chuckles, at a loss as to what else to say.

Hoping to break the awkwardness, Bryson steps forward and greets her, "Commander Shepard." He shakes her hand as well. Like Jarek, this man has stayed pretty much the same, with the exception of some white peppering his temples.

Shepard quirks an eyebrow and gives him a once-over unabashedly. "Life's been treating you kindly, I see. You haven't changed much."

Bryson blushes and laughs. It's curious how it's never sexual harassment when a woman scrutinizes a man. Shepard's not about to complain. It's one of the few advantages of being a woman in the military and she's not about to waste it.

"Can't complain, Commander," he admits, still grinning boyishly. "Things here are pretty peaceful unlike what--" He stops and blushes again, more with mortification than embarrassment. She has a pretty good idea of what he was going to say and wish he had. Isn't that the main reason why she's here? To talk this shit out?

"Well then, we better get going," Liam says, breaking the tension. "Follow me, Commander."

"Lead the way," Shepard says unhelpfully, following with Bryson and Anderson quietly on tow. They stop once they reach the door that leads to the room where her past confession took place.

"I'll be here when you come out, Commander," Anderson says, addressing her formally. It's reassuring to hear those words. At least when she steps back into reality this time, she'll be welcomed by a friendly face and the promise of hard liquor.

"Won't be long," Shepard says and steps inside before they can say anything else, before they can tell her to take her time. She doesn't want to take her time, she wants to do this fast so she can cross it out from her to-do-list.

 

The door swooshes close and Shepard's finally left alone. She's been in the company of person after person: military personal, doctors, reporters... everyone wanting a piece of her, everyone treating her like cracked glass that might break if spoken harshly to. She's tired of it, which is why she's somewhat relieved to do this and have the whole sham over with.

Honey, tired eyes inspect the small room. It's empty except for a plain, metal table and a chair on either side. Shepard takes one of them, still trying to detect any changes in the room. Is this the same chair she used the last time she was here? Is that the same spot in the wall she focused on when she was talking about the lusty batarian?

She places her hands on the table, entwining her fingers. The surface is cold in more than one way. The room isn't inviting. It looks more like an interrogation room than anything else. She follows that train of thought. If interrogation is when you pull information out of your enemy, what do you call it when you do it to your ally? Debriefing? Psychological interview? If that's so, then wouldn't a psychologist be nothing more than a benign interrogator?

The door opens and Shepard's grateful. She doesn't like the path paved by her cynic thoughts, makes her nervous. She recognizes the man that steps through instantly. His dark hair has turned grey, but his eyes are still the same, dark and detached.

"It's been long, hasn't it, Jo?" Dr. Millman greets cordially, placing a glass of water on the table near her.

"Shepard," she corrects dryly.

"Come again?"

"My name," she specifies, "I go by Shepard now."

He takes the seat in front of her, his datapad in hand. It's the same model as before, which is weird considering the Alliance has never been stingy with their equipment. Perhaps it holds sentimental value of some sort? It's almost absurd that this man could feel human emotions. Then again, who's she to pass on judgment?

"Is there a reason for it?" he asks, tone still polite, still dethatched, although his interest seems on the rise.

"No." When he doesn't seem satisfied, she adds, "It's not a big deal. I've just gotten used to it, I guess."

"Your first name is personal. It's what differentiates you from your family, yet by asking others to ignore it, it might imply that you have ceased to accept your individuality," Dr. Millman suggests. "Do you still think of yourself as Jo or have you shed your name completely?"

"Hey, you want to attach more meaning into this, then be my guest," Shepard argues, forcing herself not to cross her arms. She wants to hide behind a stoic mask, but she can feel heat rising to her face, probably painting an unbecoming blush on her cheeks. She shrugs to counteract her body's reaction. "Just don't go around putting words in my mouth, doc. You don't hear me calling you by your first name, do you?"

"Fair enough," he surrenders politely and types something into his datapad before locking eyes with her. "Shepard then, agreed?"

Shepard leans back. She wants to pull her hands away to hide some of her tension. It's clear she's uncomfortable. One look at how tensed her fingers are flexed exhibits as much. Yet, pulling back might prompt Dr. Millman to read more into that as well. She's not going to hide, not this time, or at least not in the way he's implying.

"Where's your friend?" she asks, changing the subject.

"You mean... Dr. Stensen?" His dark eyes stray to his datapad. He looks at it but does not see it. Shepard can tell he's somewhere else, visiting a distant memory. After a while he blinks out of it and informs, "He passed away a year ago."

She might be wrong, but for a moment Dr. Millman seems exhausted. It's good to know that emotions can conquer even him, that he's not as immune to them as he appears. Makes him a flawed human... just like her.

"What happened?" She asks, curious.

Dr. Millman seems to mull over the question for a while before answering, "A situation grew out of control." He smiles sadly, "Wrong place, wrong time. That's what some called it."

"Some, not you?"

Dr. Millman chuckles softly, the sound mirthless, "Why, Shepard, one would think I've become the patient." He leans back on his seat, his eyes dethatched again. "Let us return to our respective roles."

Shepard shrugs, faking indifference, "Only us this time, then?"

"Unless you wish for someone else to be present?" Dr. Millman offers.

Shepard turns him down with a curt shake of the head. Anderson does come to mind, but she doesn't want to disappoint him. What happened to her... there's nothing special about it. It wasn't a grand adventure where skills and courage alone saw her through. It was a nightmare of epic proportions, where nothing was within Shepard's control.

It's hard to admit, but the Shepard people know... she doesn't exist. She never did. She's an illusion constructed by the media. When it comes to her, the truth is often hidden under a haze, hard to grasp, almost impossible to admit. Perhaps that's why the media has such an easy time lying? Because if people where to find the truth about Shepard, she would not be able to fill in the hero's shoes.

"Alright," Dr. Millman says, navigating through the menus of his datapad.

She watches him, trying to figure him out for a change. Her back is still rigid, though. It doesn't matter how much she wants to, she cannot force her body to fully relax. The silence stretches. Shepard knows he's expecting her to start, but she can't decide where. How far back into that day must she travel?

"Do you know why you're here?" he asks.

"You want to know what happened on Akuz," she answers and this time, she does pull her hands off the table, dropping them into her lap.

"Kind of," he says, surprising her with his honesty.

"Kind of?"

"You've already given a report about what happened, haven't you?"

"The debriefing?" she offers, guarded, a little confused as to what he's trying to get at.

Dr. Millman smiles. It's an almost imperceptible quirking of the lips. "I don't want you to just talk about what happened." He looks at her, leaning forward, avid. There's something in his eyes, something she's seen before... whenever she would gaze at a mirror. "I want you to _re-live_ it for me, Shepard. Like you did last time."

She knows that glint! It's a hint of insanity what's staring right back at her. It takes Shepard a moment to overcome the shock of her discovery. Is she misreading things? Can her mind be playing tricks on her even while she's awake? Is it wishful thinking to want the person charged with determining her mental state to be just as broken as she is? Whatever the case, the thought is... _reassuring_.

"Can you do it for me, Shepard?" Dr. Millman pushes, the hint of insanity diving back below the surface of his dark eyes. He looks again the dethatched, sane doctor from the first session thirteen years ago.

"Like with my colony?" she asks, donning an impassive mask.

"You can't say it, can you?" he challenges out of nowhere.

It takes her a while to register his question, and even then she fails to understand it. What galls her, however, is his expression. His eyes are cringing almost tauntingly.

"I don't follow," she confides reluctantly.

"The name of your colony," he looks down at his datapad. "When you talked about it last time, you avoided the name. You referred to it as 'my colony' or 'the colony'." He looks back at her, "Does this sound familiar?"

Shepard's gripping her knees below the table. There's anger building inside of her, but she's not sure where it comes from. He prompted it, that much she knows. But whether ignited by his tone or the subject she's not certain.

"You're reading too much into it," she objects. Yet, his words ring true. Though she has never been conscious of it, she cannot deny it either. She has never once spoken the name of her colony, not to Anderson, not to Jarek, not even to herself.

"Am I? It's the same thing you're doing now with your own name, Shepard," he reasons. "Do you see the connection? By calling it a colony, you're detaching yourself from it, severing all emotional ties. It's not unusual in cases such as--"

"Mindoir," the name rolls down her tongue, but leaves a bitter taste behind. Shepard's surprised at how hard it is to say. It's as if her tongue has forgotten how to pronounce it. "Mindoir," she tries again. Yet, it still sounds as though she's trying to speak hanar. Had it always been this weird? Did it always sound so... _wrong_?

"How does it feel?" he questions, his finger hovering above the datapad, ready to start typing something, her response maybe? "Does it feel more personal?"

Shepard doesn't want to answer that. She hates how he seems to know everything, as though he's sowed something in her mind, a bug that leeches information straight into that datapad he likes so much. Her arms are tingling, there's energy moving below her skin. She shuts it down before it can materialize into purple lightning clouds around her body. She's given him enough power already.

"I came to talk about Akuz, doctor, not about my--" she stops and kicks herself mentally for the slip. "Not about Mindoir."

"Fair enough, Shepard." He tilts his head, types something into his datapad and when he's finished, he focuses back on her. "Whenever you're ready."

"Present tense?" she asks, not really knowing why. It's not like she needs his permission.

"Whatever makes you more comfortable."

Unlike the last time she saw him, his eyes seem to stay on her longer, and less on his datapad. She wonders if he feels forced to play the part of Dr. Stensen, given his absence. It could, of course, simply mean he's changed. Regardless of the reason, his gaze makes Shepard uncomfortable.

"It starts with a distress call," she begins. "Alliance high-command has lost contact with the pioneer team meant to start colonizing Akuz. The mission is made priority after two days without solid reports on the subject. Nobody has any input on what happened, so it's up to us to find out."

"I'm informed by Captain David Anderson that there's been reports of Geth activity in the area, so I'm to take enough men to repel them if we encounter them in Akuz. I hand-pick fifty marines to go with me and divide them into ten unites. It takes three shuttle trips to land the entire force. We're allowed half a dozen makos for support, which are carrying most of our supplies.

"My first impression of Akuz is that it looks pretty damn deserted. There's no native sound past the ruckus we're making. The terrain looks to be mostly steep mountains with sharp, jagged edges. They loom all around us, as far at the eye can see. The sight prompts a few audible groans from the men on foot. When I order the march to start, I decide to walk at the front of the line."

"Why?"

Shepard quirks an eyebrow, "Why walk?" He nods. "Why does it matter?"

"I'm curious," he admits.

If only to reward his blunt honesty, Shepard gives in, "It's how I lead. When I was made a Commander, I vowed I would do the same tasks I asked my men to do. No exceptions. Especially if the task was a drag."

"Do you think that makes you a better Commander?"

No. That's the word that pops into her mind. She can't say it, however, not out loud, not to this man. The word is an admission of weakness. So rather than lying, she skirts around the issue.

"I'm not the one who changes, doc. It's my men's perspective that does. If they see me leading with gloves of grime and blood, just like theirs, then they'll trust me and follow me." She shrugs, "Can't speak for everyone, but I know I wouldn't trust someone who's afraid to get his hands dirty."

"I see," Dr. Millman nods, "I've got to say, Shepard, I'm impressed at the progress you've made since I last saw you."

"Yeah, well...," she shrugs, unsure. She can never tell if his compliments are sarcastic or not. "Shall I continue?"

"Please," Dr. Millman says with a dip of the head.

Shepard goes on, "I'm informed that the makos have just picked a distress signal following Alliance protocol. We set a course for it, hoping that it comes from the missing team. The sun beats down on us unmercifully as we march forward. It's not long before it makes us sluggish. The soldiers don't say it, but I can see they're unhappy to go up and down and up again. I'm not immune to our unwelcomed circumstances. I'm getting tired, but contrary to some of the men, I don't look forward to sleeping here if it comes to that. I glance at the sky, the sun is retreating steadily so I know we'll have no other choice but to set up camp soon. I'm hoping the signal is near enough to get to it before we have to stop."

"Is there something specific about the place, apart from the sun, that made you uncomfortable, Shepard?"

Shepard searches for the right explanation. She can't very well admit that her worry had been prompted by Jarek's absence. "Something in the air," she says, "It's hard to explain. I guess it had to do with the stillness."

"The stillness?"

"Like I said, Akuz is a big planet, doc. Perhaps as big as Earth. It was certainly hot, but not too hot." She pauses, leans forward, "Yet there was no sign of life apart from us. Wouldn't that strike you as odd? Wouldn't you wonder if something dangerous resided in this planet? Something that would prompt the native life to hide? Wouldn't that then lead you to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the pioneer team stumbled upon that _thing_?"

"It's an interesting supposition," Dr. Millman agrees. "So why not leave?"

Shepard settles back, "Why? I had fifty of the best marines my ship had to offer, trained for years, combat-ready veterans. We were armed to the teeth. Even our makos were rigged with submachine guns and small missile launchers. If those were not enough, which at the time was doubtful, we had a dozen missile launchers, top-of-the-line. Each packed with two missiles that could detect heat signatures and would destroy anything upon impact. On top of that, we were already following what looked like a good damn lead. We could not ignore it. It was our mission to find the missing team, rescue them if they were still alive, recover their bodies if they weren't..."

"Yet, you still worried."

Shepard smiles drily, "It's part of the job."

"Fair enough," Dr. Millman relents. "So what happened next?"

"We continue onwards for who knows how long. Marines hauling heavier equipment start falling behind, exhaustion evident in the unbalanced way they walk. Yet, I force them to forge on. I call a stop only when we reach the signal. It comes from a half-buried mako, the Alliance logo is plastered on the side of the door. It looks beat up, yet it sports no bullet holes that I can see.

"I gaze around, scanning the area wearily just in case we were led here on purpose. The ground here is a wide, flat patch in between the mountains. There's no cover in a radius of perhaps fifteen miles, give or take a few. I want to order the men back into the mountains, but we need to excavate the mako, see if there's any bodies inside. I order half of the men to settle shifts and start digging. The rest I send out to scout ahead in every direction.

"The night is upon us soon after, horribly cold. The wind doesn't help either, one slap is all it takes to turn armors to ice. The mako has been excavated and there's no bodies inside. We do find more wreckage buried around us and start digging that up too. I'm hoping something here might provide a clue of what happened. The scouts come back with nothing to report. And I mean nothing. Not even a sighting of another living creature. I think it odd, but do not voice my concerns. The men are tired enough already without adding the extra stress. I reflect on the situation. There's much that needs to be excavated still, but I don't want to work the men to the ground in case there's an attack.

"I mull over the decision I have to make, torn. I know that I can order the men back the way we came, to set up camp between the mountains and avoid the wind, but there's still a chance we might get attacked. If we stay put, we could position the makos around us for cover and still be able to see the enemy coming. It's a tricky decision, but I sacrifice comfort for security. If the enemy decides to attack, they'll have to walk into the open to be within range.

"I order a Corporal to gather some men and park the makos around us." Shepard uses her hands and the glass of water to exemplify this for the doctor. She doesn't think it's necessary, but she feels the need to do it all the same.

"Do you know his name?"

Shepard frowns, "Excuse me?"

"The Corporal, do you know his name?"

"Of course," Shepard snaps, then berates herself the emotional outburst. She struggles to call forth the name. She knows it, but her tongue feels heavy and her lips are uncooperative. After a while, she answers, "Corporal Toombs."

"Interesting," he murmurs, egging her annoyance.

"You've got something to say, doc?" She barely stops herself from slapping the table in frustration.

"Not yet," he says innocently. "Carry on when you're ready, Shepard."

It takes tremendous effort for Shepard to swallow up her annoyance. She entwines her hands and leans on the table as she continues, "I allow the snipers to sleep inside the makos."

"Is there a reason for that?" Dr. Millman interrupts again.

Shepard sighs, "Snipers need to move quickly, therefore they're the most exposed when it comes to clothing. They were freezing..."

"I see," Dr. Millman murmurs. "So what happened next?"

"I hand pick my best engineers and have them stay inside as well, keeping a close eye on the radars. The equipment isn't much, but if a hostile force gets close enough, they should be able to pick it up."

Shepard stops for a moment, trying to find the right words to continue. Things get a little hazy from here on. Everything happened too fast. When Shepard tries to recall the details, she feels distant, as though it didn't happen to her, but to someone else. Another Shepard...

"I'm sleeping when...," she struggles for the right words, the right _lie_. Jarek materializes. He's standing just behind the doctor. He's looking at her knowingly. She shrugs and decides to go vague for a change, " _something_ wakes me up."

"Something?" Dr. Millman's interested, she can tell by the way he's leaning towards her.

"I don't know how to describe it," Shepard says, opting to go for a half-truth. How else could she describe what happened? It's not like she can disclose the truth, that the ghost of her brother woke her up. That he was the one who started moving towards one of the makos and that she found herself following, curios to see what he would do, where he would go.

"Instinct?" Dr. Millman offers. "Perhaps you felt the ground shake below you prior to everyone else? Perhaps your senses are sharper or your sleep was lighter?"

Shepard shrugs, "Perhaps. Who knows, doc?" She sighs, combing back her short hair. "Whatever the reason, I woke and went to the nearest mako. Despite my orders, the engineer was sleeping."

"His name?"

"Whose?" She's snaps, finding his interruptions aggravating. He wants to know what happened, right? So why keep asking for unimportant details?

"The engineer's name, do you remember it? Did you know him?"

" _Her_ ," she corrects, "and yes, I knew her. She's..." Shepard struggles with the name for a moment. "Corporal Jimenez."

Dr. Millman nods in confirmation, typing something into his datapad. Shepard realizes that this is the second time he's ask for names. This is also the second time the name seemed to have slipped away from her mind.

She takes the glass of water and drains half of it. It does little to patch her dry throat. She takes a moment to compose herself, to push away all the subsequent questions unleashed by her latest discovery. Her voice had trembled with the name. Why? Why had it been so hard to recall her name? Shepard used to have drinks with that woman, for crying out loud!

If Dr. Millman takes note of her rising insecurities, he hides it well. Shepard's grateful for that. She looks away and ends up staring at the glass half empty. The hell's wrong with her? Avoiding names isn't something she was conscious of until now. For some reason, it's harder to dive back into the memory. If she steps into the past, will she get trapped in the pit of despair she clawed out from?

"What happened after you woke Corporal Jimenez?" he asks, then adds almost as an afterthought, "Take your time, Shepard. There's no hurry."

Again, she can't help but wonder why Dr. Millman is acting like Dr. Stensen. Could it be that he did change? Could this sympathy be developed over the years? Would she too be able to comfort someone in the future? Shepard shakes her head and the thoughts therein. It doesn't matter. What matters is that she forges on and finishes the story, if only so she can close this chapter of her life.

"Like I said, I woke--," She stops and switches back to present tense. "I _wake_ Corporal Jimenez and ask her to check the radar for me. She's groggy and it takes her a while to register my order. She peers into the equipment, leaning so close I can no longer see the screen.

"She curses in a whisper. I wouldn't have caught it if I wasn't standing so close. When she turns to me, she's pale. 'There's something coming, Commander!' Before I can think to sound the alarm, the earth is shaking and then it's ripped open from below..." She looks down at the table and whispers, "All hell breaks loose after that..."

"The thresher maw?" 

Shepard nods, "I feel blind... trapped. The mako doesn't have many windows so I can only see part of what's happening. I see men running to grab their gear, disoriented and confused. They're shooting at something behind us. Something big enough to have them shooting upwards.

"I order Jimenez to get us out. We're in the middle of a battlefield. I need some perspective before I can start strategizing and issuing orders. I pull a gawking soldier away from his post behind the mako's submachine gun. I sit and pull up, opening the hatch. The wind slaps me full in the face. I lower my visor, hoping to keep the raising dust out of my eyes.

"My equipment picks up the heat signature of something... _humongous_. Though I've never seen such a beast before, I know what it is. The dust settles down and I'm given a glimpse of what we're facing." She looks down at her hands, they're fisted so tight, her knuckles are white.

"There's two makos down already. Lilting the ground are countless, faceless bodies. The thresher maw is spitting acid at my men, some of them yelling, trying to take off their dissolving armors. Others are still shooting, moving backwards steadily. I can see panic in the way they've stopped aiming. I know what they're thinking because I'm thinking the same. There's nowhere to go. Chaos is a bullet away." Shepard looks up at the doctor, "If I had moved them to the mountains, they might've been able to get some cover from the acid..."

"It's not your fault, Shepard," Dr. Millman argues. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen. You assumed you would be facing geth."

She wants to scream that's not good enough! That she should've known! That she should've accounted for that as well. She wants to remind him the price paid for a decision she alone made. She wants him to acknowledge that all those deaths are on her! Shepard wants to be blamed. Anger she knows how to deal with, guilt... guilt makes her uncomfortable.

"Doesn't matter," she sighs, "I order Corporal Jimenez to radio the other makos and tell them to attack the monster with all they've got, only to be informed that there's two makos without working guns, courtesy of the thresher's welcome party. I tell her to have them pick up men and drive them out of the thresher's range at the very least... and then I watch both makos blow up when the thresher spits a mouthful of acid at them."

Shepard closes her eyes. She has her elbows propped on the table and she leans her head on her hands. Everything aches, not just her eyes. She wants to cry for all the men she's lost, but the tears won't come. Maybe she has forgotten how?

Dr. Millman's hand is suddenly on her shoulder, squeezing, attempting to provide comfort. Shepard's body tenses at the thought. It's not her who should be comforted, she has lost that right! It's the families of all the fallen who have earned a hand on their shoulder, a shoulder to cry on. She reeles back, away from him, shrugging his hand callously.

"We can take a break if you need one, Shepard," Dr. Millman offers.

Shepard ignores him, "We're losing and we're running out of options. Even with four makos attacking plus several clutters of foot soldiers, the thresher maw seems unharmed, unstoppable, invincible. I've used all the ammo of the mako's submachine gun. Some -- _most_ of the soldiers outside have stopped any pretence of fighting and are trying to run away.

"The situation grows even more dire when a third mako is taken down and a fourth is sent spiraling through the ground, ending on its side. In a moment of clarity, I recall that we've brought several missile launchers. I understand it's our only choice, but the place where they'd been put is close to where the thresher maw has sprout. For all I know, the weapons have been swallowed up by the earth, like so many men had done every time the thresher retreated below the ground. Still, I have to try, I owe the marines I have left as much.

"I relay my plan to all available soldiers, using the comms to share it with those still in the fight. Two soldiers --a man and a woman, brother and sister-- they offer to go with me. I don't recall their names," she confides before he can interrupt. Shepard knows their names, but they seem to have slipped out of her mind completely. Either that or some part of her is reluctant to remember.

She looks at Jarek. He's made his way to the table. He's standing beside Dr. Millman. The look on his face twists her heart into knots. It's getting hard to breathe. Unable to maintain eye contact, she looks away.

"It's okay, Shepard," Dr. Millman says, misinterpreting her reaction.

"I... I accept their offer, glad that they've volunteered. What we're about to attempt is insane, and I would hate forcing anyone to join me in the enterprise. We'll either make it and save the day, or we'll die a grim death. I know this and I'm prepared. I would go alone if I could, but three is better than one. If I die, I'm hoping one of them would reach the launchers and finish what I've started.

"Corporal Jimenez drives us as close to the thresher maw as she can, then stops to let us out. The thresher retreats and I can see some intact crates ahead. Better yet, the path towards them looks clear. I'm thinking we're in luck and charge onwards without hesitation, the two volunteers on tow. I stop when the ground starts shaking and turn back in time to see the bloody monster sprout below Jimenez' mako, snapping the vehicle in half with its jaw."

Shepard stops and drinks the rest of the water. The image is fresh in her head. It's one of those few clear moments of that day.

"I can hear them..." she says, tugging at her earlobe, as if to extricate the screams trapped there. "I can hear their screams. I think I might've..." She shakes her head. "I turn my back on the scene and pull at the armors of the flagger basted brother and sister. I point at our destination, at our objective and break into a run. I don't know if they're following. At this point, I'm running on pure adrenaline. I have to make it, if only to avenge those who just died."

She notices Dr. Millman's eyes are glinting with unshed tears. She tries to go over what she's just said, hoping to detect whatever would have cause his emotional response. Yet, Shepard's lost inside the memory and it's hard to shove it aside and push it back into the box where it came from.

"I reach the crates --what's left of them. I'm heaving, I can barely hear anything past my drumming heart. I glance around me only to notice the brother and sister are not with me. I don't know when or where I lost them. They're nowhere near. I'm not sure if they even followed to begin with..." Shepard shrugs, "Regardless, I have a job to do. I pry open a crate and find an intact launcher inside. I start moving the rest of the crates thoughtlessly in search for a missile." She smirks, "Fuck, I'm not even thinking about the possibility of blowing myself up in the process."

Shepard's hands turn to tight fists. She can feel her biotics acting up, creating an electric current that travels up and down her entire system. If she loosens her tight hold on them even a little bit, she knows something bad might happen.

"It's an eternity before I finally find one," she continues, pushing her biotics down, back into her core where she can control them. "I grab one and push it down the barrel of the launcher . I set it up in record time. I actually heave a sigh when I hear the beep indicating that it's ready. I'm acutely aware that there's not much shooting anymore and I try not to think about what that means.

"When I'm ready, I turn around and watch the last mako explode, catching at least three soldiers in the explosion, setting two more on fire. I'm about to pull the trigger when the thresher maw retreats underground. I'm looking all around me, body coiled, ready to react. I don't want to admit it but... fuck, I'm scared. The ground starts shaking and I realize with horror that the earth is ripping right below my feet!

"I start to run. I feel a strange calm left in the wake of my momentary panic. I feel the earth opening behind me, feel a draft of air so strong it sends me to the floor. I ball my body, protecting the launcher. I'm glad I took my finger off the trigger, else the missile would have exploded in my face. In one same motion, I twist as I fall so that I'm on my back, looking up at the worm-like creature towering me. I put my finger back on the trigger. I breath in... and squeeze.

"My arms are left shaking at the intensity of the launch. I'm trapped in a surreal bubble of time. I watch the missile rip a hole into the creature, leaving nothing where its head should been. I hear the tell-tale sound of my shields dying and the sizzling of my armor as acid rains down. I drop the launcher and scramble to my feet. That's when I notice the humongous body tilting in my direction.

"I try to keep steady. I'm disoriented and can barely walk, let alone run. Part of me knows I won't make it..." She sighs, "Still, I look ahead and..."

"What happens?"

Shepard is looking at the ghost of Jarek. She wants to tell the doctor the truth. That she saw Jarek in the distance, beside the burning mako, offering what he had never offered before...

_She's tired and scared. Every noise has been drowned out by the sound of her heavy breathing. There's chunks of charred flesh and fat droplets of acid raining down on her. Her feet are moving but she's making little progress. Everything's slowed down. Shepard feels trapped, panicked and high at the same time._

_Movement ahead catches her attention. She zeroes on it and find someone there, moving, alive! She forces her eyes to focus, her mind to start spinning. She recognizes the figure standing twenty feet away, arms wide open. Jarek is smiling for the first time. His eyes are tender, his body gentle, ready to pull her into his arms and give her what she's always longed for._

"Shepard?"

_She needs just reach for it to grab it, to feel it, to claim it as hers by right!_

"Commander Shepard?"

_Comfort and forgiveness... just twenty miserable feet away._

_Her extremities are tingling. There's energy exploding in her core, pouring out her pores. This time the energy is controlled and powerful. Her surroundings blur and she feels herself charging forward at full speed, purple tainting her vision, leaving a trail of energy behind._

"Shepard, are you okay?" Dr. Millman's hand is on her shoulder, squeezing, shaking, ripping her out of the memory.

Shepard blinks into reality. She shakes her head, clearing the image engraved in her retinas.

"I do something stupid and desperate," she says, ignoring his concerned look as she dives back into a _lie_. "I zero on one of the burning makos and use biotic charge. The slam steals the air out of my lungs, leaves me seeing black, more disoriented than before. There's blood coming out my lip and down my eyebrow," she touches the scar on her lip, running down her chin. "There's a terrible pain on my shoulder. I can't move it. I crawl away from the mako, to keep from being burned alive when I've already made it out of a thresher maw's death trap.

"When I regain some of my bearings, I look around only to find... no one. I'm in a... field of fucking death. I grab a discarded weapon, check to see there's a fresh thermal clip on it and move around the place. I study the camp turn battlefield, scavenging what I might need, medi-gels mostly. I check every pulse, collect every dog tag I find from the dead. There's three soldiers still alive but badly wounded. I drag them to the side, place them together, near the shade of the overturned mako. I do my best to keep them alive, applying medi-gel generously, but..." She shakes her head.

Dr. Millman breaks the pause before it can drag much longer, "How did you call your Captain?"

Shepard's glad he didn't ask for their names, those three soldiers she could not keep alive.

"The inside of the overturned mako was not badly damaged. The radio was still working so I called it in. By the time backup arrived...," Shepard smiles mirthlessly and leans back on her seat, exhausted. "there was just me. The rest... well, I'm sure you know the rest, doc."

Dr. Millman types something into his datapad, then leaves it on the table and leans forward, entwining his fingers, hands atop the cold table.

"It wasn't your fault, Shepard, you're aware of this, right?" he asks, his eyes scrutinizing, digging for the answer.

"Heard that before, doc," she points out. "Can't say I believe it yet."

"It's normal to feel guilt--"

"I told you my story," Shepard interrupts. "What you're going to say... I've heard it before, doc. All of it, many times, in two different occasions..." She looks away. "I'll be fine, I just need..." She shrugs and heaves a sigh that sounds melancholic," Am I free to go?"

Dr. Millman looks at her in silence for a short moment, contemplating her. He nods slowly and Shepard gains her feet. She goes to the door, relieved to be finished. Jarek is gone, she isn't sure the moment when he left but she knows he doesn't like it when she lies. Truth it, Shepard doesn't like it either, but it's become nothing short of a necessity.

She's just opened the door when Dr. Millman speaks, "One day, Shepard." She stops and casts a glance over her shoulder. There's a gentle and unusual smile in his eyes, quirking the corners of his lips. "One day, you'll be okay."

Shepard reflects on his words, hand still pressing the button, keeping her exit open. There's something in Dr. Millman's eyes, in his odd _change_ that bothers her. Something that she can't quite put her finger on, but which her instinct recognizes. Is this another guilty soul looking for forgiveness?

"Right back at you, doc," she responds with a smirk, glad to catch him off guard for a change. Someone who has tasted insanity deserves to hear that everything might be better too.

Dr. Millman's eyes fill with tears. It's still weird to be reminded that he's human. Whatever regret could cause such onslaught of emotions, it's not her job to find out. Anyone can hold a secret that cannot be disclosed, she knows this better than most.

"Goodbye, doc," Shepard says and before he can answer, she's out the door, leaving him with his grief and his pain. Unlike him, it's against her nature to intrude. She's too broken to try to fix anyone else.

 

The hall outside is empty. She pads down it's length, reminding herself not to drag her feet and look defeated. She looks around, peers into every room she passes in search for both her benefactor and her ghost. Eventually she finds the first near the front entrance. Anderson's in the company of the two guards. When he sees her, he smiles and bids Liam and Bryson farewell. Shepard shakes hands with both men and proceeds to leave with a smile and a few light words. It's hard to pull the card of 'I'm peachy' when she just relieved her first grand failure as a Commander. The taste in her mouth is rusty and bitter, like blood.

"Ready?" Anderson asks.

Shepard nods and manages a weak smile. God, she's tried, so goddamn tired. So when Anderson refrains from asking how it went, from poking at her open wounds, Shepard's grateful enough to want to kiss him. She doesn't, of course. It's already awkward as it is. Her Captain falls into step beside her and gives her enough space to maintain peace but not enough to feel his absence. It's a compromise she can work with.

When they reach the car, Shepard gets in, secures her seatbelt and leans back. Her head feels heavy and her neck is aching. She feels as though someone's pulling at her hair. It's an unwelcome feeling, but she can't shake it off.

She heaves a deep sigh and closes her eyes. She must have dozed off, because when Anderson shakes her awake, they're no longer outside the base. Shepard gazes out the window, trying to orient herself. She realizes guardedly that they aren't parked outside the promised bar either.

Instead, one look past the front window displays a familiar sight, one that's as unwelcomed as the ball of stress accumulated on the back of her neck. Feeling betrayed, she turns to Anderson hoping for an explanation --no, that's not true. She's gone past the point of pretending there's any control left in her. She wouldn't have been able to keep polite even if she tried. She's not hoping. Fuck, she's not even asking! She's _demanding_ a reason with eyes alone, given her tongue has turned to fucking lead.

Anderson's already climbing out of the car and therefore fails to catch her glare. Shepard crosses her arms, confused and seething. She stays there for a while, trying to collect her scattered wits with little success. When she looks out the window, she finds Jarek there, beside Anderson, looking at the same sight, not at Shepard but at what's beyond.

Resigned, she takes a deep breath, steels herself and finally musters the courage to climb out of the car. The wind feels cold, biting at her face as the sun paints everything a shade of gold. So much beauty in the face of so much death... it's unfair.

Digging her hands into her pockets she moves forward, up the hill where Anderson and her brother awaits. When her eyes take in what's behind the hill she staggers. It's as if someone has punched her in the stomach and slapped her face all at the same time. There's a peak of energy inside of her, biotics acting up in reaction to her emotions. She focuses on them, on controlling them.

"I thought you said you were taking me to a bar... sir," Shepard manages to say between clenched teeth, trying not to sound as angry as she is and failing miserably.

Anderson's eyes are tender when he looks at her, "I will take you to a bar, Shepard." He looks again at the garden of graves below. There's fifty pristine, white, marble tombstones coming out of the ground. Her men. Her unit. Her failure... "But first, I wanted you to see this."

This is the first time she's here. She hadn't made it to their funeral because she'd been in the hospital. She'd seen it on TV and had felt... a hole. Nothing concrete. It was rather like something was missing. Yet now, forced to be here, face to face with the consequence of her orders, the hole is filled with pain, frustration and regret. So much regret she's drowning. She hates this. She hates him, them --Anderson and Jarek.

"Why?" i comes out a dry croak. Her hands are flexed, fisted, shaking.

Anderson's dark eyes are on her, "Because before you can drown your grief, Shepard, you must confront it." 

What Dr. Millman hadn't managed to do, Anderson did with those words. Shepard falls to her knees, pain exploding out of her guarded heart, filling her to the brim, his words the trigger. And so, in the face of a tragedy, with the comfort of a giant and the company of a ghost, Commander Shepard finally remembered how to cry.


End file.
